Blind Fury

Chapter Eleven

Anna had a terrible few moments of panic. Her mind went completely blank in a hideous mental block. She took deep breaths, refusing to allow herself to even contemplate the connection between Ken, the blanket, and the killer. She knew she would have to discuss it with him, and immediately, but the fear that he could be involved made her throw up in the toilet.

Afterward, she splashed cold water over her face and then called the prison to ask to be put through to the secure unit, as it was of the utmost importance. She was told that it was against regulations for the officers in the unit to take personal calls. Fighting to keep control of her voice, she explained who she was and said it was imperative she speak to Officer Hudson.

It was a while before Ken came to the phone; the first thing he asked was if she was all right. He was afraid there had been some kind of accident.

“I’m fine, Ken, but just before I left your flat, I noticed that you’d been exercising on a blanket. It’s prison issue — a blue one — and I need to know why you have it.”

“You’re joking?”

“No, I’m not. It’s very important. Ken, can you tell me about the blanket?”

“It was in the flat when I moved in. They give them out, or they did, to the officers in the flats. Most of them bring in their own bedding, obviously. I don’t think they are part of the prison issue anymore, but there must be hundreds still used in cells... What’s so important?”

“Can I take it with me back to the station?”

“Whatever for? Are you having me on?”

“No. I wish I were, because I can’t really discuss it with you, but can you call me later when you are off duty and I’ll explain?”

“Explain it now, Anna. I was almost having a heart attack in case you’d been hurt.”

Anna felt her body breaking out in a cold sweat. “All right,” she said, and swallowed. “One of our victims was found wrapped in an identical blanket — the same color, but with no laundry mark. We’ll need to find out if they were also issued to other prisons.”

There was a pause, and then Ken asked if she wanted him to check it out for her.

“No, station will get on to it.”

“Okay, but you be honest now, did you think I had something to do with it? You didn’t, did you, Anna?”

“Of course I didn’t,” she lied, “but I just needed to check it all out with you. Look, I’ve got to go, the taxi is here to take me to the station.”

She felt terrible that she had, for a moment, had a hideous suspicion that he could in some way be involved. During the taxi ride, she rang the incident room and gave them the blanket discovery, making no mention that she had found it in Ken Hudson’s flat, but insisting that the team needed to find out how many prisons used the blue blankets for their inmates. She also spoke to Mike Lewis about the Cameron Welsh interview, repeating that he was adamant regarding the Margaret Potts connection and that he had even suggested the killer could use a police officer’s uniform to entice the victims to trust him.

“Or it could even be a prison officer’s uniform,” she added, and felt her body break into a sweat again.

The journey to King’s Cross seemed to take forever, as there were faults on the line and delays, so she didn’t get back to the incident room until late afternoon. She immediately passed the blanket over to be sent to the forensic lab.

The team had discovered that the blankets were imported by a company in Wembley and made for them in China. The company had ordered a massive consignment, delivered over four years to five prisons, but had recently lost contracts, as the inmates didn’t like them and preferred duvets. These blankets were also used at police stations in Manchester for prisoners held overnight in the cells. The remainder, since the prisons had stopped ordering, had been delivered to hostels around London. They were looking at hundreds of thousands of these blue blankets, and it promised another lengthy, tedious line of inquiry.

That night Anna had a call from Ken. He suggested that it was possible their killer had worked as a prison officer. Anna agreed but said it was a long shot.

“Do you know if officers keep their uniforms when they leave?”

“Yeah, some do. We get our uniforms, but many officers buy more comfortable black trousers. I doubt if they’d bother retaining the shirts with the epaulettes, although it’s possible.”

Anna didn’t want it to happen, but the discovery had somehow damaged the innocent warm glow she felt toward him, and he picked it up fast.

“Listen, I think you and I had better spend some more time together and soon, because even though you are telling me you didn’t feel any suspicions, I can tell by the way you are talking to me that it upset you. I’ll pull what strings I can to get off this weekend, okay?”

“Yes, I’d like that.”

“Good night. Love you.”

She didn’t say she loved him and felt guilty, so she rang him back straightaway, but his phone went to voice mail. She didn’t leave a message but hung up.

The possibility that their suspect might have worked as a prison officer was a step forward, and yet it meant they were in an even worse position, because not only did it entail another round of inquiries, it also meant that John Smiley was less likely to be their prime suspect. And they had no one else.

The following morning, Pete Jenkins confirmed that the blanket did match the one they held at the lab. It was made from the same fabric, with the same stitching, but the old one had been worn, probably washed numerous times.

Anna had spoken again to Pete when she went home the previous evening and explained in more detail the importance of the blanket being prison issue, though it was virtually impossible to trace the actual batch and discover where it might have been sent. However, what it could mean was that whoever killed Dorota Pelagia four years ago might have had access to one and had perhaps even worked for the prison service.

Ken had ridden down to London on his Harley late Friday, and all the anxiety Anna had felt had disappeared. They talked about the case, about Dorota Pelagia, and the fact that Langton had threatened to pull half the team. Langton had admitted that they did have new developments, but ones that he felt had scant hope of a conclusion. It had been a depressed group when Anna had left, even more so as they all had weekend leave, bar the skeleton night-duty officers. It appeared they were heading toward a scaling-down of the entire investigation.

“Our prime suspect no longer fits the new stuff that came in. We have his CV from when he left the army and joined this company called Swell Blinds.” Anna was lying in bed beside Ken, and when there was no reply, she realized he had fallen asleep. Easing herself out of the bed, she crept into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Sitting on a breakfast bar stool cupping the mug between her hands, she didn’t feel at all sleepy. More than ever, she was aware what it felt like to have someone to be with, despite the fact that Ken had fallen asleep when she was talking about the case. Never, in her entire career to date, had she worked on a case that looked as if it could go so totally cold. At worst, there would always be an ongoing investigation and even a couple of officers assigned to monitoring any new evidence. On all her other cases, she had learned something about the victims, but with this one, they still knew little about the Polish women. Only Margaret Potts’s past life had they been able to piece together.

Anna sipped her tea, questioning herself. Had she overlooked something? Even though she had uncovered key facts, such as the lizard tattoo and the date of Dorota’s marriage, it had not brought in a hoped-for result. They were still no closer to finding the killer.

Anna finished her tea and thought about returning to bed. As she passed her bedroom, she looked in at the sleeping figure of Ken. It was a good feeling to have him part of her life, and instead of going to look over her notes and case files, as she would have done alone, she slipped in beside him. Loving the feel of his back as she pressed herself against him, she fell asleep.

Their entire weekend was taken up with preparing a picnic, and as Ken had brought another helmet, Anna had the first-time experience of riding behind him. They rode out to Greenwich Park and had a long walk, getting to know more and more about each other. She never brought up the case; it was out of her thoughts, even more so when they came back and changed to go to the theater. They had dim sum for dinner in a place on Tooley Street and didn’t return to her flat until late. The following morning they stayed in bed reading the Sunday papers before riding over to have lunch with Lizzie and her family. Anna helped cook and wash up, and Ken played out in the garden with the two boys. Lizzie looked out at them having fun and then turned to her guest. “Are you keen to have children, Anna?” she asked.

Anna was taken aback. It was something she had never really thought about, but the scene outside brought the truth home to her. Finally, she said that she was.

“That’s good, because I sort of thought you were a career girl. Ken loves kids, and he’s really a very special person, the way he looks out for Mum and Dad.”

“They’re lovely people.”

“Yes. I always think they have more heart than anyone I’ve ever known, especially my mum. Strange, you know she had a big scare, open-heart surgery, and we thought we might lose her.”

“Yes. Ken mentioned it to me, but she seems well now.” Anna glanced out the window, watching as Ken held Oscar upside down, while Ollie screamed that it was his turn.

“He’ll make a terrific dad,” Lizzie said fondly.

Anna was so startled by the remark that she flushed. Before she could say anything, Ken burst in and suggested that they all go for a walk in Richmond Park.

In the end, Anna and Ken took the boys to the park, leaving their parents to enjoy a quiet couple of hours with the Sunday papers. By five o’clock, when they had returned to Lizzie’s house and had tea and sandwiches, it was time for Ken to take Anna home and get back to Leeds. She tried to persuade him to stay another night and leave the next morning, but he refused, saying that he had to be at work early because he’d had the weekend off.

“When will I see you again?” she asked.

“I’m working next weekend, so it’ll be up to you whether you want to drive up. It’s also my parents’ wedding anniversary.”

Anna hugged him, saying that she’d be there if she got the weekend off. Then he was gone and the flat felt empty. She couldn’t believe how much she already missed him. He had drawn her into his world, his family, and the warmth of their affection for one another spilled over to her. Having no parents and no relatives, Anna had been solitary and until now had not questioned how much of her time was spent alone or at work.

She kept on thinking about what Lizzie had asked — whether she wanted children — and the thought of carrying Ken’s child made her well up inside. She had to admonish herself. He had not implied that their relationship would go that far, and she didn’t know if he would want a long-term commitment, but it didn’t stop her from daydreaming about getting married. This again was something she had never contemplated or even allowed herself to think about, especially during her long affair with Langton. Even though they had lived together, she had intuitively known it would never go further than that. She didn’t even know if she had wanted it to, but one thing she did know: she had never contemplated having a child with him, and she was certain that it had never been something he had thought about or desired.

Anna tossed and turned, one moment thinking about what kind of bridal gown she would choose, whom she would invite to the reception, and the next warning herself to stop thinking about it. She decided that she would go to see Ken in Leeds the next weekend and, having made the decision, fell fast asleep.

Monday morning, Anna arrived at the station and could feel the lack of energy in the incident room. Barbara and Joan were gossiping over their mugs of tea, and Barolli was standing in front of the incident board with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Anna joined him.

“Nothing came in over the weekend?”

“Nope. I had bloody sleepless nights. I’ve never been on a case that had so much work done and so little to show for it — bar the amount of stuff written up here. I tried thinking if there was anything we’ve overlooked, but Christ Almighty, Anna, look at how many interviews we’ve done, how much work the clerical staff has had to wade through, and having that John Smiley as our only suspect looks like a complete waste of time. So all that crap we’ve had to delve into about Swell Blinds has also been pointless.”

Anna looked at the photographs of the victims, the red arrows linking the girls, the Polish connection, the tattoo.

“I was thinking over the weekend, too,” she said. “In every case I’ve worked on, I’ve uncovered details about the victims’ lives, but with these girls, we’ve got blanks; we don’t know where they went after stopping work for the domestic agency — all we know is that Anika worked in a restaurant, but we don’t know where she lived. With Estelle, we have her working as an au pair, staying with a friend, and buying clothes from a charity shop, but we still don’t have a clue where she went for the three days before her murder. As for Dorota Pelagia, we have no information about where she worked or lived, nor do we know of anyone who knew her apart from the hideous Olga — so where was she four years ago?”

“Tell me something I haven’t thought about,” Barolli muttered.

“I think we should do one big press conference with all the victims’ profiles.”

“Listen, they’ve had them on the crime shows, they’ve done the news coverage over and over again, and what has it brought? Fuck-all,” Barolli grumbled.

Anna shrugged and went over to her desk.

“What did Cameron Welsh have to say for himself?” Barolli asked, curious despite his bad mood.

Anna gestured at the board but gave Barolli the gist of it, adding, “He also had a hard-on when he was telling me all this, so I suspect he was just wanking around.”

“Did he keep on about Margaret Potts?”

“Yes. He has a hatred of prostitutes and always refers back to her as holding the clue. He says she must have known her killer.”

“So what do we do? Go back yet again over all the information we have on her?”

“Well, we’ve been pretty thorough, and we’ve not found any connection.”

Barbara joined them, asking if they should return the boxes of receipts and contracts to Swell Blinds. Her desk was stacked high with them, as was Joan’s.

“The only stuff we didn’t check out were the orders for vertical blinds, as John Smiley didn’t fit that sort, and the company’s no longer got the contracts. Ones like that, not the wooden slatted ones.” Barbara turned and gestured to the incident room’s windows. “According to all these hundreds of calls, and there have been God knows how many interviews, every one of these orders that had John Smiley down as delivering or measuring have been checked out. We were told not to focus on the factory orders for hotels and other businesses that use vertical blinds. That includes the contracts they had for housing associations, schools, gymnasiums—”

“Go through them, Barbara,” Anna said suddenly.

“All of them?”

“Yes. Sorry. If John Smiley fitted them...”

“But he was only on the wooden slatted ones, wasn’t he?”

“I don’t know, Barbara, but just cover yourselves to make sure we’ve not missed anything.”

Mike Lewis then called Anna into his office, eating a sandwich as he gestured for her to sit. “Langton’s gonna pull out half my team, leaving me with just a handful, as he can’t get the finances to continue. We’ve had twenty-eight officers doing a lot of the legwork, and he needs them for other cases. Clerical staff have already been pulled, and he was going nuts about how much that bloody Polish interpreter cost.”

Anna said nothing, as she had expected it would happen.

“Do you know how many blue blankets were issued over the past eight years?” Mike demanded.

“No, I don’t.”

“Five hundred and fifty thousand!”

“So where does that leave us?”

“With as much chance of tracking down where the blanket came from as winning the sodding lottery. They’re in prisons, hostels, charity shops... it’s fucking impossible, and for her, that’s all we’ve got.”

“Any chance of her relatives coming over?”

“No. Besides, she’s been cremated.”

“Wouldn’t they want to take her ashes back to Poland?”

“We’ve not traced any family members apart from her sister. Besides, we’d have to pay, and with the budget out of control, I don’t have the finances.”

“But we might get something about Dorota’s background if we keep trying. We know so little about the victims, apart from Margaret Potts.”

“You talk to Langton. He’s bitten my head off once too often. Have you any idea how much this case has cost to date?”

“If they weren’t Polish, would—”

“Don’t even go there,” he snapped.

Anna decided to go up to the canteen for a coffee and bacon roll. Facing her was a window with vertical blinds. She stared at them as she finished her late breakfast.

Barbara was removing her cardigan as Anna got back to her desk. “I’m going to need my eyes tested again.” The DC sighed. “If I’m not glued to the computer all day, it’s sifting through this lot.”

“Did Swell Blinds have any contracts for vertical blinds with police stations?”

“I’ve not come across one yet, but there’s got to be hundreds of firms that make them. They’re very popular because they’re cheap.”

Anna frowned. Something was niggling at the back of her brain; she just couldn’t bring it out. Opening her briefcase, she took out the three notebooks she’d filled during the investigation and began to skim through each one. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for but hoped that something would jog her memory.

“You look different,” Joan said.

“Pardon?”

“I just said you look different. Dunno what it is, but you look...”

“Different. Yes, so you said.”

“I’m going to the canteen — you want anything?”

“No, thank you, Joan.” When DC Falkland had gone, Anna opened her handbag to take out a mirror and looked at herself. Yes, she was different; she felt different because she was in love.

“Nothing better to do?” Barolli said as he passed her desk, also on his way to the canteen.

Anna put her mirror away, then hurried across to Barbara. “The contract for the Swell Blinds company...”

“Which one? Take your pick.”

“No, you said something about a housing association...”

“Yeah, they had a whopper of a contract but lost it, part of the reason Swell Blinds uprooted to Manchester.” The DC began to search through a stack covered in yellow stickers. “Arnold Rodgers said something about losing the contract because there were so many companies after it who had contacts within the housing association. In other words, it was possible that money changed hands.” Barbara continued sifting, asking, “You thinking of ordering some for your flat?”

Anna made no reply, waiting impatiently until Barbara handed over a thick set of documents stapled together. Anna took them back to her desk, her heart jumping as she thumbed through the orders. Next she flicked through her notebook to her first interview with Emerald Turk. To trace her, she had gone through Social Services, and they had put her in touch with the Strathmore Housing Association, which had rehoused Emerald in a newly refurbished apartment in a high-rise block. Anna picked up the phone, trying to keep herself calm, but felt certain she was on the right track. She recalled looking toward the window in Emerald’s kitchen and was positive that the woman had vertical blinds.

Anna tapped on Mike Lewis’s office door and went straight in before he could answer. “I think I’ve got something,” she said.

“Dear God, not another tattoo or blue blanket?” he joked tiredly.

“No, it’s a connection between Swell Blinds and the possibility that Margaret Potts might have met John Smiley.”

Mike leaned back in his chair, waiting.

“Emerald Turk was rehoused in Hackney by the Strathmore Housing Association. They had Swell Blinds under contract — this would have been shortly before they lost that contract and moved to Manchester. On their receipts, they don’t have John Smiley as the man fitting the blinds, but I want to go and talk to them anyway.”

Mike leaned forward, saying, “I don’t quite see the connection.”

“Margaret Potts stayed on occasion with Emerald Turk, even left her suitcase. She could have been in the flat when John Smiley fitted the blinds.”

“Christ, it’s a bloody long shot, Anna.”

“But it is one, and I would also like to get another search warrant for Emerald Turk’s flat.”

“Leave it with me, but please get some kind of verification first that it was Swell Blinds.”

Anna drove over to the Strathmore Housing Association in Hackney. As she was asking about a contract from at least five years ago, they were doubtful they would still have the information. Anna mentioned Emerald Turk’s name, and that got a reaction. Half an hour later, Anna had learned that when Emerald Turk was given the flat, the housing association was still using Swell Blinds. Anna could sense there was some kind of a problem because the woman being interviewed explained how they had, from what she recalled, some trouble with the blinds; in some cases, there were complaints about them falling apart almost immediately.

“So we used another company, and we have been very satisfied.”

“Did the housing association fit the vertical blinds in these properties, or did the company put them up?”

“Oh, we would have used their fitters. You have to understand that we are preparing properties for tenants all year round and can have anything up to a hundred or more that would require redecoration, furnishing, renewing the electrical appliances, replacing bathrooms. Some of our tenants are not only short of money but have lived in squalor or on the streets, and damage to our properties is not unknown.”

“Would you have the name of the person who fitted the vertical blinds in Emerald Turk’s flat?”

“No, we wouldn’t retain that, as it was totally up to the company doing the work. All the flats in Miss Turk’s building would have had the same refurbishing, same kitchen and bathroom fittings. We have major contracts out to tenure every year.”

“But you didn’t renew the Swell Blinds contract five years ago, is that correct?”

“I don’t have the exact details in front of me, but we have been satisfied with our present contractors. It’s always down to costs. We have to keep them at a bare minimum.”

“Would you have any kind of record if Miss Turk had had any problem with these vertical blinds?”

“I don’t understand.”

“If they were not satisfactory, who would handle the complaint?”

“If she did have any problems, we would, of course — but you are asking about a situation from five years ago, so I doubt we would retain any record of it.”

“Could you please check for me?”

It turned out that Emerald had made various complaints — about her hot-water system and central heating — but they had no note of any problem with the blinds. Anna then asked if the blinds would be in place and all refurbishments completed before the tenant took residence, and she was informed frostily that every attempt was made by the association to ensure that the tenants moved into a totally refurbished flat, but on occasion, due to the workload, there might be minor faults that required attention.

Anna could see the look of expectation on the team’s faces when she returned. She put her hands up.

“It’s possible. Right time frame. Swell Blinds did fit vertical blinds in Emerald Turk’s flat, so this means there is a possibility they were fitted by John Smiley. It is also a possibility that Margaret Potts was there, as she often stayed with Emerald.”

Barbara said that of all the vertical blinds they had been able to check that morning, none had been fitted by anyone employed by Swell Blinds. So far they had no record of John Smiley doing work at schools or factories or on large orders.

“But he might have been sent to measure?” Anna asked.

Barbara shook her head. “Not according to Arnold Rodgers. He used the two men we interviewed via Wendy Dunn. These blinds are apparently easy to erect, not like the wooden ones, so he didn’t use John Smiley because he’s too experienced.”

When Anna nodded, Barbara continued, “You see, with the wooden slatted blinds, you’ve got to also fit a top frame — you know, like a pelmet. You need to have precise measurements.”

“Thank you, Barbara.”

“I’m only just repeating what Mr. Rodgers said.”

Anna glanced at Barolli. “Search warrant set up, is it?” He nodded, and Anna checked the time; it was now after six. She said to Barolli, “We go first thing in the morning. She has to get her kids off to school, so we call at nine. Pick you up outside Tower Hill tube station at eight, all right?”

“Why not go there now?”

“She works nights, Paul. We go tomorrow morning.” And with that, Anna picked up her briefcase and walked out.

Barbara whispered to Joan, “I think she’s met someone. She’s Miss Confident all of a sudden. Anybody know who it is?”

Overhearing, Barolli laughed. “We know Cameron Welsh can’t get out of his cell, but she did go up to see him on her own after swearing that wild dogs wouldn’t get her to visit him again.”

“You are kidding me?” Barbara said, and Barolli rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Barbara, I’m joking.”

He turned to the incident board and moved closer to read the reports of the interviews with Cameron Welsh. “You know something? That bastard might have been right all along. He’s said from day one that Margaret Potts holds the key, and here we are, how many bloody weeks later, finding out that maybe she does.”